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The Bright Empty

I see the silver bay blinkingUnder the influence of tall buildings,Tossing out window lightLike the banter of well-meaning women.They say their good-nightsWith reassurances of constancy.More light: fire in flight;Fireflies filching firelightIn the heart of man.I remember when the night was dark.There were places you could walk to,And once there, you could be anywhere.Nothing grounded you, oriented youTo houses or highways.Even the trees gave up their shapesTo the persuasion of night.To find one, you had to feel the bark,Like calloused flesh, and look up.The tree was a hole in the web of stars,The only light on moonless nights.That was a thousand miles from here,Or maybe more;A thousand years agoOr a little less.

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Dawn is in an hour;in a night.A light on the long street on the grey river, on a long walk of broken clays. It takes only a streetlight to bare the sighs, the yawn of dark alleys,
of quiet honesty;the great peace of telling without cause, without want. The arm stretches and guides the body; the body doubles its warmth.Laughter snaps against brick and glass, and the eyes combine; heart combines with heart. And dawn is in the hour,
in the night.

I don’t believe in time.There's much more world left;So much more to learn, And I don’t believe in time.I believe in shadow birds flyingThrough the green of mown grassUnder the squint-bright sun;An ocean dappled with cloudsAnd the white sails of small boatsCrossing my shoulder;A thousand dynamic bloomsThat I can’t name, speakingWith voices of childrenAnd laughing as they pass;The reassuring chatterOf great wooden beastsThat sermonize patienceAnd continuity.But I don’t believe in timeOr the limits it implies.I don’t believe in the failureOf the manifest soul.I don’t believe death will resultFrom the cessation of habitsThat feed my blood,Because I won't believeIn a future nothingnessThat I can’t see from here.

The day my brother flew,I prayed for the last time;Asked for his acceptance,A chance to say goodbye.Stood inside the chapel,Whispered through the motions,Knowing in my chestI did not believe.Months gone from that day,I stood inside a basement,Staring out the window,Chainlink in my eyes.A host of white lights came,Gathered right beside me,Waited till I turned,Slowly sank away.I never told my folks.They could not believe it.I don't know what I saw,If I’m lying to myself.The day my brother flew,I sat down on a stairstep,Fingers in my hair,Asking why I breathe.He lived and enjoyed life.I don’t even like it.That was '91;The answer never came.